


In the Light of Day

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, Bottom Mycroft Holmes, Fluff and Smut, Insecure Mycroft, Love Confessions, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Mycroft never wanted anyone to see him in the light. As always, Greg Lestrade is just what he needs.





	In the Light of Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [egmon73](https://archiveofourown.org/users/egmon73/gifts).



Mycroft woke to find sunlight splashing across his face. He stretched, only to freeze as the bed shifted next to him. _Gregory_. Last night came back to him in a rush, kissing, touching, batting Greg’s hand away from the light switch. Moaning in the dark as he was filled again and again.

But now it was morning and there was no darkness to shield him. 

Hoping Gregory would stay asleep a little longer, Mycroft rolled to the side and got up, trying to escape to the en suite. As he stepped away a firm hand grasped his wrist. “My?”

Mycroft kept turned away, hunching over himself. “Gregory,” he said softly.

Greg gave a tug. “Come back to bed.”

Mycroft scrunched his face. “You can’t see me like this,” he muttered.

Greg shifted closer, still holding his wrist and kissing his arm. He chuckled softly. “I’ve been inside you, Mycroft. Nothing could make me want you less. Or make me leave.”

When Mycroft hesitated, Greg moved closer still, wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s waist and toppling him back onto the bed. Mycroft closed his eyes, aware of the sunlight and Greg looking him over.

“You’re perfect,” pronounced Greg.

Mycroft cracked one eye open. “You’re a liar.”

“Not about this.” Greg leaned down and kissed him gently. “May I touch you?”

Mycroft gave a tiny nod, closing his eyes again and resisting the need to curl up and turn away.

Greg kissed him again, and smoothed his hands down Mycroft’s chest. Mycroft knew it all too well. The faded mark from a bullet just under his ribs. The appendectomy scar. The extra weight he never could get rid of, no matter how he tried.

“This must have been a near thing,” said Greg quietly, touching the bullet scar.

Mycroft nodded. “I didn’t do field work that often.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Greg kissed it, hand coming to rest on Mycroft’s stomach, making him flinch.

“Ticklish?” asked Greg.

Mycroft sighed. “Not particularly.” He opened his eyes and looked at Greg again, seeing the gentle concern in his eyes.

“You are beautiful,” said Greg again, sliding up to lay next to him, toying with Mycroft’s hair.

Mycroft did roll over, facing away, then. “I’m a freckled, overweight ginger. Pasty, no good at sports, and far too smart.”

Greg kissed his throat and rest a hand on his hip. “You’re brilliant. I’d like to kiss every one of your freckles. I like your hair and sports are overrated.”

Mycroft cracked a tiny smile. “You didn’t argue with pasty.”

“Mm, pale like the finest marble? Like my own personal moonbeam?” Greg wrapped his arms around him and hugged him from behind.

“Your interest hasn’t flagged,” said Mycroft dryly, feeling Greg against him.

“Why would it when I have the most amazing man in my arms?” Greg stroked his chest. “I love you, Mycroft. You know that, right?”

Mycroft closed his eyes again. “I just don’t understand why.”

Greg pulled Mycroft onto his back and cupped Mycroft’s cheek. Mycroft looked up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “I love you,” he repeated, as if that was all that mattered. And perhaps it was.

Mycroft leaned up and kissed him. “You are far too good of a man for me.”

“Better at football, maybe, but no, not too good for you.”

Greg’s smile could melt any ice. Mycroft was helpless against it. “I love you too,” he admitted softly, smiling in return.

“Then that’s all that matters,” said Greg, running fingers through Mycroft’s hair. “Though if I ever find whoever convinced you that having freckles and being ginger was a bad thing, I may not be responsible for my actions.”

Mycroft rolled Greg over and straddled his waist. “I’ll keep you from my file, then.”

Greg laughed. “Of course you have a file of everyone that was ever an asshole to you.”

“Fortunately, most of them have turned out to be good people in the end, despite errant behavior in their youth.”

“Mm, yeah, we all do things in our youth. Bet you didn’t see the tattoo last night.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him.

Greg chucked and shifted Mycroft’s leg to reveal the tattoo just above his hip. Mycroft recognized the man smashing a guitar at once. “The Clash.”

Greg smiled broader. “Hah. You listened to them too.”

“Well of course I did.” Mycroft crossed his arms.

“You’ll need to show me your record collection later on.” Greg rolled them over again, kissing Mycroft. “For right now, though, I want to show you how much I need you.”

“May I assume by shagging my brains out?” asked Mycroft.

“Provided you have no objections.”

“None at all.”

“Good.” Greg reached for the lube and coated his fingers, pressing them into Mycroft. “Now, about kissing every freckle…” He started at Mycroft’s temple, working his way down, making Mycroft giggle. Meanwhile his fingers worked Mycroft open, making Mycroft spread his legs for him.

“You’re incorrigible,” muttered Mycroft, dragging his fingers through Greg’s hair.

“Ah, you made me lose count,” pouted Greg. “Good thing I love your body.” He kissed Mycroft’s stomach.

“I thought you loved my brain,” muttered Mycroft.

“Both. And your brain is part of your body. This whole magnificent package.”

Mycroft laughed. “Magnificent has never been used to describe me, except perhaps as an adjective before the word ass.”

“Well, you do have a magnificent ass, too.” 

“Gregory.” Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“It’s true.” Greg kissed him and withdrew his fingers, squeezing Mycroft’s ass with both hands. “Your magnificent ass in those suits…”

“It’s a good thing you have a modicum of self control,” said Mycroft, wrapping his arms around Greg’s neck.

“On occasion.” Greg pushed into him.

Mycroft moaned and kissed Greg tenderly, heart swelling with love.

“You are beautiful,” said Greg softly, thrusting slowly. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m fucking you.”

“I know.” Mycroft studied his face. “I know. You love me,” he said with wonder.

“The real miracle is that you love me back.” Greg kissed his forehead.

“How could I not?” Mycroft held his shoulders. “You’re the only one to ever see me.”

Greg smiled and looked down at where their bodies were joined, thrusting slowly. “Mycroft?” he asked after a few long moments.

“Yes?”

Greg raised his head and met his eyes. “You are worthy of being loved.”

Mycroft blushed and looked away. 

Greg stilled his hips and cupped Mycroft’s cheek, forcing him to look back at him. “You are worthy of being loved,” he repeated.

Mycroft’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Slowly he nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” he said softly.

Greg leaned in to kiss him, shifting them around until Mycroft was sitting in his lap, facing him. Greg took Mycroft’s cock in hand. Mycroft moaned and arched back, bracing himself on his hands, leaving himself vulnerable, exposed.

Holding his back with his free hand, Greg kissed Mycroft’s chest, expertly stroking him. Mycroft could hardly resist, shivering and coming with a soft moan. Greg lay him on his back again and started thrusting hard and fast, needing to reach his own climax. Mycroft ran fingers through his hair.

Groaning against Mycroft’s shoulder, Greg came, shuddering with the force of it. Mycroft kissed his temple.

When Greg could breathe again he raised his head and kissed Mycroft soundly. “I should wake up in your bed more often.”

Mycroft gave him a gentle smile. “I hope that you do.” He ran a hand through Greg’s sweat-damp hair. “Thank you. For seeing me. For being here. For… loving me. ”

Greg’s smiled broadened and he rest his head on Mycroft’s chest, perhaps listening to his heartbeat. Mycroft watched him close his eyes. “Thank you for giving me a chance,” Greg said at last.

“It’s been the best thing I could ever do for myself,” Mycroft’s voice was soft.

“And I am so glad you did.” Greg murmured.

“A rare indulgence.”

“But no less than you deserve.” Greg opened his eyes, kissed Mycroft’s chest again and met his gaze. “You’re worthy of love, and I’ll keep saying that until you believe it. And probably after.”

“You are too, you know.” Mycroft leaned down and kissed him. “Now, what do you say to a short nap. Since we’re here.”

Greg settled his head on Mycroft’s chest once again. “Sounds like your best idea yet.”

A sunbeam splashed across them both, but for once, Mycroft wasn’t afraid of the light. He lay awake, stroking Greg’s hair,and for the first time in a long time, feeling at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to humshappily and beltainefaerie for reading it over


End file.
